Page 8 of Shift in the Blood
“Thank you. When are you thinking of commissioning these?” Maybe it would be soon, so that I could go to the grocery store and not sweat as the total added up.
“As soon as possible.” The smile dropped away, and he took a step closer to me. “If you agree, I’ll give you my contact information. I’ll expect to hear from you within two weeks of graduation. I have a place you can work, and I’ll get whatever supplies you need.”
“How much are you paying for this?” I decided that if he was going to be blunt, so was I.
He named a figure that would keep Carina and I for six months.
I tried to keep my face still, to not let my surprise or my greed show. “Who are the artists? What paintings?”
He named them.
I thought it over for about ten seconds and agreed.
That was it. That was my first meeting with Maxim, and each meeting ever since had been something more of the same. About two years ago, he stopped with the nice veneer. I still had all the supplies I wanted or needed, and a place to paint. But there was no pretense any longer. I was a forger, working for a criminal. And that was all there was to it.
Was this offer from Didier more of the same? “I don’t want to trade one batshit crazy criminal for another.”
“I am not a criminal in the way that Popov is a criminal.”
I laughed, but not in a way that suggested I found his words funny. “Sure, sure. That’s what all the bad guys say.”
“If I were indeed a bad guy, I would have left you at the museum. But I did not. I brought you to my home and took the time to help you with your healing.”
My hand went to my cheek. “It doesn’t feel that bad, although it does hurt.”
Didier leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. He plucked at the crease of his pants. He never took his eyes off me. “I healed you.”
“How? How did you manage to heal me this fast?”
“With my blood.”
I blinked; not sure I’d heard him correctly. “I’m sorry?”
“I healed you with my blood.”
“Okay, first, that’s gross, and second, what in the name of all the holy hell do you think your blood can do?”
Chapter Four
Didier
One of the tenets of our world was that we did not advertise who or what we are. Vampires are the thing of myth, stories that go bump in the night, of dreams and nightmares. Although over the last twenty years, vampires were romanticized by pop culture. Some of my kind had taken advantage of that. Honestly, it had worked out fairly well. However, I’ve found it’s a case of being careful what you wish for. Most of those who wished to meet someone like me would run screaming if they did.
But my heart beat when Clara Manning’s cheek was slashed and I smelled her blood.
My heart beat as it had when I was human.
My heart had never beat for anyone, for any reason. Not since it took its last journey before I became one of the undead.
I’d heard about this from others of my kind. That when you met your soulmate, the person who was to be with you, either for their life, or together as the undead—this was the person for you you. I knew of some couples who had experienced this. Usually, the human became vampire as well. The thought of losing part of one’s soul was too horrid to face, I suppose.
In over four hundred years, I’d never experienced it. I’d been part of the patronage system before, a group of vampires loosely known as the Ouroboros society. Perhaps that was the way to go here with Clara. I didn’t know, and I really didn’t like the way this felt, this being unsure.
First, however, I had to tell this woman the truth. “I am a vampire. My blood can speed healing, not only for me, but for you. For humans.”
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re awhat?”
“A vampire. I have been for over four hundred years.” My heart sped up, and I wondered if that was because hers was beating faster. I could feel it, sense the flow of her blood in her veins.
